Because I Want To
by mevans1358
Summary: Prequel to "A Piratess's Life". Semi-AU pre-CotBP sneezefic: Prisoners on a pirate ship are usually left to rot in the brig, or brought to the captain or crew for unspeakable rituals. But not in Dylan Mackey's case. She sees Capt. Barbossa through a nasty sinus infection armed with her healing abilities and her unfailing compassion, & an old friend joins her on her journey *wink*.
1. Too ashamed to admit to anyone

Hector Barbossa stood at the wheel, reminiscing on the event that had taken place that week: Jack was gone, marooned on an island in a distant somewhere, the captaincy of the _Black Pearl _finally his. He couldn't believe his good fortune. He had always dreamed, for the two years that he had been first mate, to devise a mutiny and acquire what had attracted him to the job in the first place. At last, he had accomplished his goal. He, Hector Barbossa, was captain of the _Black Pearl_.

_FLASH! _A bolt of lightning brought him crashing back to the present: A raging wind had blown up a few miles back, and it had grown into a full-fledged hurricane. Rain lashed at captain and crew as they scrambled to keep the ship in good form. Barbossa bellowed orders by the minute and the various men down on the deck dashed about obeying them. His latest: "Turner!" he hollered at one of the deckhands. "Get down to the brig and check on the prisoner!"

He cackled. Taking that chit prisoner was the best decision he'd made so far as captain. She seemed to be a very smart girl, and as far as he knew, she wasn't a day over sixteen. And she was beautiful, too.

* * *

Turner staggered to the brig, fighting a howling wind and biting rain just to descend the stairs. "Curse it all," he mumbled, grabbing onto the railing to keep from toppling down. "This storm won't go without consequences."

Finally, he was at the foot of the stairs. He made his way through the hold and found himself in a distant corner of the brig, looking at the ship's two cells. One was empty, but the other held a girl; Turner paused a moment to admire her beauty: tight blond curls and well-formed curves. And from what he'd heard from Captain Barbossa, her eyes were as blue as the noonday sky. She was asleep at the moment, and her chest rose and fall elegantly.

Turner quietly unlocked the cell door, but apparently, not quiet enough: The girl stirred, and, startled, scooted to the back corner of the cell.

"Easy, lass," Turner said soothingly. "I won't hurt you."

The girl didn't reply. She just sat there, wide-eyed and fearful. Turner noted that her eyes were just as Barbossa had said.

"Oh, mercy." Turner stepped inside the cell and walked towards her. He sat across from her. "I promise I won't hurt you." He held out a hand. "They call me Bootstrap Bill, but me given name's William Turner, Senior."

The girl looked at him, and put her hand in his. "Dylan Mackey."

"Pleasure's all mine," Bootstrap said, shaking her hand. "Now, what would Barbossa want with a girl like you?"

"What else?" Dylan scoffed, gesturing to her chest, which was home to a pair of rather ample breasts. Her face changed from anger at this thought to fear at another. "You don't think he'll…" She didn't finish, but she didn't have to.

Bootstrap took her hand again. "I won't let him. Don't you worry."

Dylan smiled, and put her other hand on top of his. "Thank you," she said sincerely. "I didn't know there was such a thing as a kind pirate."

They both laughed.

* * *

Hours later, the storm was finally over. Bootstrap had emerged from the hold to be immediately interrogated by the bo'sun as to where he had been for the last thirty minutes. "Captain's orders," he had replied innocently. Reluctantly, the bo'sun had believed him, and sent him on another order. The crew had managed to keep the _Black Pearl_ in good form, and for that, Captain Barbossa was grateful.

But something else had happened, something that Barbossa would never, in a hundred years and more, admit to anyone…


	2. I wonder how your words would be written

**A/N: Much congested speech in this chapter. The reason I warn you is because I haven't written a sneezefic in a while and therefore I've become a bit rusty in how it should be done. If you think it should be done differently, please don't hesitate to tell me.**

* * *

"_HaaAAAssshooo!" _Barbossa sneezed miserably into a filthy handkerchief. He grumbled incoherently to himself as he tended to his nose. He had been sneezing intermittently for the past hour or so, and he got more annoyed with each one.

Concealed in his bedchambers since the morning after the storm, he had worsened significantly. Catching a simple cold was usually nothing to him, but this was something much more than a cold. And, being a pirate captain and devoid of most current medical knowledge, he did not know what it was, much less how to treat it. Therefore, he had put Bootstrap at the wheel, gave the precise order not to disturb him, promised a grave punishment to anyone who did, and locked his cabin doors. So he was very upset when he heard a quiet knock on the door outside the curtains of his canopy bed. (He had 'purchased' this bed the last time he had been ordered to appear at the Court of the Brethren, and had gloried in its splendor ever since. It did provide for an easier sleep, for the curtains blocked out unwanted morning sunlight.)

"Who is id?" he demanded, then hurriedly and quietly blew his nose, for fear of the intruder hearing the congestion in his voice.

"Bootstrap, sir," a voice announced. "Just had a question on orders."

"Oh, all righd, fide, ged id here," Barbossa acquiesced. "Your orders were glear…*snrrff*…clear," he growled. "Leave me alone and mand the wheel!" _This bloody congestion isn't going anywhere, _a little voice in the back of Barbossa's head told him. Barbossa told it to stow it, reached out, and unlocked the door.

The door and curtains flew open, and a very different-sounding voice remarked, "You are a very gullible pirate captain."

Barbossa snatched the bedsheets and covered himself, because he was shirtless. "Who the hell are you?" he snarled.

"My name is Dylan Mackey, _Captain_ Barbossa," the voice answered. Dylan had bribed Bootstrap to surrender his hat and shirt, as well as the key to the cell, to her in exchange for a few gold coins Dylan had hidden in her bodice, and she had donned the disguise and entered Barbossa's cabin without difficulty. "And you should know better than to curse in front of a lady."

"I know damn well what is better to do!" Barbossa hissed. "You shoudt have to dell be whad is bedder 'a do!" He fumed at the fact that he had become even more congested than before.

"Go ahead," Dylan said simply. "Relieve your nose. I won't look." She turned and raised a hand to her face, blocking Barbossa from her vision.

Barbossa, shocked, said, "How did you dow?" without thinking.

"Please," Dylan said. "You've been sneezing for the last hour. I heard you all the way down in the brig cell."

"Ad why did you cob ub here?" Barbossa inquired, blowing his nose fully into the handkerchief.

"Because I was curious," Dylan replied. "I wondered who had such loud and deep sneezes. They're signs of a sinus infection. Bootstrap told me that it was you. And really, you have to admit," Dylan smiled, "I can really sound like him."

Barbossa growled involuntarily. He felt the infuriating tickle in his nose, but he didn't dare sneeze in front of Dylan. After all, he had finally noticed that she was indeed a lady.

But his sinuses had other ideas. As he panted, Dylan snatched a clean square from a shelf nearby and handed it to him just in time. _"HaaAAsshoo! HiiIIAAAssschoo! HEEAAschOOO!"_

"My God, those sound painful," Dylan remarked quietly. "You really are sick."

"You are a brisoder od by shib," Barbossa barked hoarsely. "Ad you will _dod _dell be whad I ab. Of gourse I doh I ab sig. I –"

"You may as well stop talking. I can't understand you anyway," Dylan said, rather rudely. "I wonder how your words would be written. A scribe would have a heart attack, I'm sure."

Barbossa, his anger flaring to the point of explosion, propelled himself off the bed and launched himself at Dylan, but halfway, the world became blurred around the edges, and he began to fall.

"Okay," Dylan said, grabbing him under the arms. "Lay down, there's a good man."

Barbossa felt himself blushing madly as he felt Dylan's arms lay him down gently back on his bed. As she positioned the bedcovers just so over his body, he asked quietly, "Why are you doig this for be?"

"Because I want to," Dylan replied. "You hold the title of 'Captain' and are unable to fulfill your role."

She smiled as she said, "Even though I hold the title of 'prisoner' and am drastically overplaying my role. That alone would get me shut back in the brig for sure."

"No, I wodt shud you bag," Barbossa said without thinking. He gasped as he realized what he'd said.

Dylan smiled again. "See? The beginnings of a friendship."

* * *

**A/N: Hmmm...anyone for a Barbossa/OC? Not entirely sure where that would go, though...**

**Time for theatre rehearsal. See you tomorrow!**

**x Mevans**


	3. Why are you doing this for me

**A/N: I want to thank Irony'sFriend for their very kind words and their support of my story. I was quite shocked when I found 10 e-mails in my inbox and all of them were from you, Irony! I don't know what I would do without my faithful readers. I love you all.**

**x Mevans**

* * *

Dylan sat with Barbossa until he was sleeping; rather noisily, she noticed.

"I should have him inhale some steam later," she whispered to herself. "Wait – bugger. I don't have anything to use for that…Bootstrap."

She quietly got to her feet, slunk out of the cabin, and made her way to the wheel, where Bootstrap Turner was slowly turning it to starboard.

"Bootstrap?" Dylan said tentatively.

"Yes?" Bootstrap turned. "How is the captain?"

"He's quite ill," Dylan explained. "I believe he has a sinus infection. I can't help him without any supplies, but I do know that we're nearing an island called Port Royal. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, I'd like to stop there and get some supplies."

Bootstrap looked at her. "Captain doesn't usually take orders from a prisoner," he said.

Dylan looked shocked, but then Bootstrap laughed. "I'm just kiddin'. I was going to stop there anyway. That's where I live, and also where I get off."

"You're getting off?" Dylan worried that with Bootstrap's absence, the crew might take advantage of her.

"I'm sure you'll be able to handle yourself," Bootstrap told her half-heartedly. "Besides, I think with your kinship with Barbossa, they won't go after you."

Dylan was all but convinced. "But still, Bootstrap. Can't you stay?"

"No, love, I'm sorry." Bootstrap let go of the wheel for a moment and put one hand on each of Dylan's shoulders. "I've got a daughter and a son to look after, and I can't leave them alone much longer."

"Can't your wife do it?"

"My wife died four years ago in childbirth. The baby went after her three years later."

Dylan was surprised to see a tear slide down his face. "I'm so sorry, sir. Please, don't allow me to stop you. Go and look after your children."

Bootstrap grasped the wheel again, but kept his gaze on Dylan. "I won't forget you. You're a good girl. Try and keep it that way." He smiled.

Dylan returned the smile. "I will. I promise, Bootstrap."

As she made to go back below deck, she turned back. "Bootstrap?"

"Yes?" He turned towards her.

"Do you think I'll ever get a chance to meet your children?"

Bootstrap scoffed. "You'll probably meet my daughter soon enough."

Wondering what he meant by that, Dylan bid him farewell and went below deck.

* * *

A few days passed before the _Pearl _reached Port Royal. Dylan emerged from the cell below decks each morning to sit with Barbossa. They chatted about this and that, and Dylan assisted him with his ailments. When he needed a clean handkerchief, she found him one. When he needed food or drink, she fetched him some.

On the day they docked, as Dylan handed Barbossa his lunch, he asked again, "Why are you doig this for be?"

Dylan looked him square in the face. "Because I want to."

Suddenly, the shout came from the crow's nest: _"LAND HO! PORT ROYAL!"_

Dylan smiled. "Eat your lunch, Captain. I'm going ashore to get some supplies."

Barbossa wanted her to stay with him, but he knew that she was probably going to go anyway, so he said, "Dodt be log."

"I won't," Dylan said. She stood, patted Barbossa on the head, and left.

When she arrived on deck, she noticed that Bootstrap was not at his post. Someone else was there – and it was a girl; just around her age, she guessed.

"Hello there," the girl called. "I just signed on."

"Good to have you, I suppose," Dylan replied. "I'm going ashore to retrieve some items. Care to join me?"

"I'd rather not, but seeing as you've asked," the girl replied, coming to Dylan's side. "I hate land. My father's always saying that I shouldn't, but I don't see myself doing anything that doesn't take place on a ship."

"Well, you're in the right place for it," Dylan answered. "My name's Dylan Mackey. I was supposed to be a prisoner, but, well, it's a long story. I'll explain on the way. Welcome to the _Black Pearl _crew…er, your name?"

"Rissa. Rissa Turner."

* * *

**A/N: Ha ha ha! Little surprise there! :D**


	4. Uh, pirate

Dylan had an inkling that Rissa did not like to talk about her dad, so she changed the subject. "Do you live here?"

"I live wherever the tide takes me," Rissa replied. "You?"

"Same. My family died ages ago, and I've had to make my own way since," Dylan told her. "They were killed in a raid. I was on the street when I was captured."

"Yikes." Rissa paused. "I had a sister died of scarlet fever, and my mother died in childbirth. It's hard, innit?"

"Yeah," Dylan agreed quietly.

Feeling that she had steered into dangerous waters, it was Rissa's turn to change the subject. "What kind of supplies you looking for?"

"Healing items, like herbs, teas, and such," Dylan explained. "I'm looking after Captain Barbossa, he's got a nasty sinus infection."

"A prisoner looking over the captain?" Rissa laughed. "That's something I've never heard of."

"Me either, but as I was thrust into it, I suppose I'll take it. I was shut up in the brig for awhile before I was taken up to see the captain by Pintel. I still sleep there." Dylan shuddered.

"I bet since you're caring for the captain you'll have some sort of luxuries soon. Lucky." Rissa chuckled and looked around. "There's an apothecary around here somewhere…. there it is." She pointed. "Come on. I know the owner, she's sweet."

* * *

Rissa opened the door slowly and peered in. "Okay, Dad's not here. Let's go." She beckoned to Dylan and they went in.

"Why do you hate your father so much?" Dylan decided to ask.

"Because he says that he would rather see me whoring than sailing." Rissa spit again and hollered, "Abby, you here?"

A frightfully large woman entered the room from a far door. "Rissy!" she cried. "Long time no see. What can I do for you?" The woman spoke with a strong Cockney accent.

"Ris_sa_, Abs." Rissa pointed at Dylan. "This is Dylan Mackey."

"Good to meet you, I'm Abigail Crichton." Abby held a meaty hand out for Dylan to shake.

"Pleasure's all mine." Dylan returned the shake. "If it's not a bother, I'd like some supplies to treat a sinus infection."

"Well, you might just be the politest person walked in my shop the last fifty years, lass," Abby laughed. "What can I get for you?"

"Er, do you mind if I look?" Dylan asked.

"Sure. Come on back." Abby opened a gate in the counter and allowed Dylan to pass. She showed her to a ladder that rose up the shelves of countless herbs and teas. Dylan wasted no time scaling it and picking out what she thought would be best for Captain Barbossa.

"You sure know what you're doing, Dylan," Rissa called up to her.

"I've done it countless times," Dylan answered, coming down with an armful of merchandise.

"But I thought you lived on the streets," Rissa said, puzzled.

"Yeah, but I'm not the only one," Dylan replied. "How much for all this, Abby?"

"Since you're a kind lass, I'll knock it to six gold coins," Abby said.

Rissa stepped forward. "I'll get this, Dylan."

"Oh, no, you don't have –" Suddenly, Dylan sensed something fishy.

"Here, Abs." Rissa stooped down and unattached something from her ankle. She held up a beautiful weaving of lovely red stones and a strange beige string. "Real rubies. Should be worth at least triple."

"Oh, you're an angel!" Abby's eyes lit up and she snatched the anklet. "You have a wonderful day, girls."

As Abby dashed to the back of the shop, Rissa signaled to Dylan to move faster. As they ran out of the shop and down the road to the docks, Dylan asked flatly, "Those weren't real rubies, were they?"

"Uh, pirate," Rissa answered sarcastically, pointing to herself and grinning.


	5. What must she think of me

Dylan and Rissa reached the docks, and were making their way to the _Pearl _when Dylan heard the sound she had expected: _"HAA-Ashuuooo! HAaaHAashoo! HAAsshoo!"_

"Damn it all," Rissa swore. "You're going to try and cure that?"

"No. _We are _going to cure that," Dylan corrected her.

Rissa stopped short. "'We?'"

"Yes," Dylan said, facing her. "I'm going to teach you how to heal. If you're going to be gallivanting around on ships, you're bound to catch something. You have to know how to cure it."

Rissa looked impressed. "Thanks, Dylan. I knew there was something different about you."

"What do you mean?" Dylan asked, motioning her to follow her up the ramp to the deck.

"I didn't think there was such a thing as a kind pirate," Rissa remarked.

Dylan almost laughed. Rissa had no idea that Dylan had recently said the same thing to her own father. She decided not to reveal that, smiling as she took her into Barbossa's cabin.

* * *

The sneezing was just unbearable. It had taken Captain Barbossa over nearly seven minutes ago and hadn't stopped since then. As he pulled the covers around his shivering body, he pondered what he wouldn't give for some of that tea he had had the last time he was ill. It worked like magic.

But there was no way he could get it. He had run out of his store and was in no way, shape, or form going to ask Dylan to get it for him.

"Captain Barbossa?"

Suddenly, Dylan's voice made him and his sinuses start. "Wha – _haAASHOO_!"

"Captain!" The curtains were flung back, and Dylan appeared in his line of blurry vision, wide-eyed and scared. "Rissa, hand me the purple packet, and then go and get me a hot cloth. Hurry, please."

As Rissa rummaged in a pouch she held, Barbossa tried to speak. "Whad is – _hiiIISSHOO!" _Dylan jumped back as Barbossa sneezed freely. She snatched a handkerchief from the dresser and took the packet Rissa handed her, sprinkling some of its contents into the hanky. She held it to Barbossa's nose and said, "Brace yourself, Captain."

Barbossa didn't know whether to ask her what for or not, but he didn't have time; a tickle that threatened to send his brain flying out his nose enveloped him, and his face crashed into the handkerchief Dylan held as he let out his biggest sneeze yet: _"HAAAAaaaSHOOO!"_

When the tickle subsided, Barbossa looked up helplessly at Dylan. "I'b so sorry, Dylad," he mumbled into the handkerchief.

"It's perfectly all right," Dylan assured him. "Blow for me."

Barbossa obeyed, blowing wetly and blushing madly. _What must she think of me, _he thought to himself.

Dylan sensed his shame, and was about to console him when Rissa returned with the cloth.

"Thank you, Rissa," Dylan said.

"Pleasure. Captain," Rissa said politely, bowing to Barbossa. "I'll go now."

As Rissa left, Dylan mouthed, "Thank you."

Rissa smiled to show she had seen.

When the door shut behind Rissa, Dylan sat in the same chair Pintel had put her in when she had been introduced to Barbossa. "Captain," she began, taking another packet from the pouch of herbs and putting a pinch of it onto the cloth, "I want you to sit up for me. Can you do that?"

Barbossa slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. As he did, he blurted, "How old are you?"

"I'm sixteen and a half," Dylan answered, puzzled. She raised the cloth. "This may be a bit uncomfortable, but I want to see if it clears you out. I'm going to put it on your face, all right?"

Barbossa nodded. Dylan put the side without the herbs on it onto his face. It was pleasantly warm, Barbossa noted.

"Now just lie there for a while, and relax your face muscles. It should clear you out in no time. You might have a bit of a sneezing fit when the cloth comes off, but don't you worry, I'm quite ready for that."

As he lay there, Barbossa asked for a third time, "Why are you doig this for be?"

"You know why, Captain," Dylan replied, lying back in the chair and closing her eyes. "You know why."


	6. Bless you, Captain

**A/N: I decided against a Barbossa/OC, because I thought it would be too strange, with both Dylan and Rissa being only sixteen. But there will be a nice healer/patient relationship between Dylan and Barbossa. I hope you guys are okay with that...**

**x Mevans**

* * *

Dylan felt herself being nudged awake. "Dylan?" Rissa's voice whispered.

"Rissa…" Dylan shook her head slightly. "What's going on?"

"You fell asleep." Rissa pointed at Barbossa, who was looking at her. "Captain wanted me to wake you. He thought you might be uncomfortable sleeping like that."

Dylan looked at Barbossa incredulously. "Thank you, Captain, that's very thoughtful."

"You're welcob," he said, looking around for a handkerchief.

Dylan looked at Rissa meaningfully.

"Oh." Rissa laughed and handed him one from the dresser. "Here."

"Thangs." Rissa and Dylan averted their eyes as Barbossa tended to his nose. "I'b glad you're here, lass. Dylad deeded sob helb."

"I can s – er, I suppose, _hear _that," Rissa agreed. "Anything you need, Captain, don't hesitate to ask either of us."

Barbossa looked at Dylan. "Oh, I'm sorry, how rude of me," Dylan said. "Captain Barbossa, this is Rissa Turner. She's taken over Bootstrap's position, and I'm teaching her how to heal."

"Thads dice of you," he said. "Welcob to the crew."

"Thanks, Captain," Rissa said, saluting comically. "By the way, who's this Bootstrap you both've been going on about?"

Dylan shot Barbossa a "don't-answer-her" look, and told Rissa, "A sailor that got off at Port Royal. I don't know his real name; they just call him that."

"Oh. Okay."

"Can you do me a favor and go get the pouch? I need the rosemary."

"Sure."

"Good girl." Dylan patted Rissa on the arm as she left.

When Rissa was gone, Dylan turned to Barbossa. "Bootstrap is Rissa's father, Captain, and their familial relationship is really strained. I'd refrain from speaking about him to her…if I'm not too bold to say."

"Doh, dot too bold ad all," Barbossa assured her. He began to pant, and Dylan looked away again as Barbossa sneezed into the handkerchief: _"HSShufff! HEESSSSshfff!"_

"Bless you, Captain," Dylan said quietly. She realized that she had not blessed him the entire time she had been on the ship.

Barbossa was surprised as well. "Th-thang you, D-Dylad," he stammered.

Dylan smiled at him. "You're welcome."


	7. Every little bit counts

Rissa returned with the rosemary in short time. "Thank you," Dylan said. "Captain," she said, turning to Barbossa, "I'm going to leave for a while; are you all right on your own?"

"I'll be find," he answered. "I believe I'll dry do sleeb. Go aboud your bisdess."

"Yes, Captain." Dylan repositioned the covers over him as his eyes closed. As they left, Dylan whispered to Rissa, "Another healing lesson: Always make sure the bedsheets are completely covering the patient if you have to leave the room."

"Got it." Rissa smiled. "You really know your stuff."

"To be honest, I'm just rolling with the punches. I've only healed a very few sinus infections before; it was mostly common colds and flus I dealt with. And I didn't have nearly as many supplies as I do now, as I was homeless and only had at most one coin on me at a time. Usually I'd pick the spices and herbs from bushes. I even had to steal sometimes."

"Wow. That must have been trying."

"It was." Dylan led Rissa down to the hold and to what the crew identified as the kitchen, but was as big as a broom closet and only held a dying candle, a small cabinet, a water pitcher, and a counter about as wide as Barbossa's bed and as long as Rissa's arm.

"All right. Time for your next lesson: rosemary tea. Please fetch one of the mugs from there." Dylan pointed to the cabinet. "Not the wooden one."

Rissa handed her a metal cup. "This is the best in there."

"Damn," Dylan swore. "Not exactly what I wanted to feed him tea in. Oh, well." She poured water from the pitcher into the cup and took the rosemary from Rissa. "Watch closely now." As Dylan sprinkled the rosemary into the cup, she swirled it around in a circle. "This dissolves the rosemary into the water, and makes it so there are no stray spices."

"Got it."

When all the rosemary had dissolved, Dylan took the candle and held the metal over it. "Hold the cup high enough so the bottom isn't touching the flame."

Rissa took the cup and held it just as Dylan had said. "Like this?"

"Exactly. You're doing quite well," Dylan complimented her. "You sure you're a beginner?"

"Well, I've done some colds for my little brother William Jr., because my dad's usually on work trips when he catches it. But I only do the cloths and normal tea."

"That's just what you do. Sometimes you can do the steam inhaling, but if it's not too bad a cold, you can do the cloth instead. Watch it, the metal's too close."

Dylan grasped Rissa's wrist gently and raised it. "Make sure you hold it at this height always."

"Okay."

After about ten minutes, the water was heated to just the right temperature. "Well done, Rissa," Dylan said. "I bet Captain Barbossa is going to like this tea very much."

"Thanks, Dylan," Rissa replied quietly.

Dylan turned to her. "What's the matter?"

"No one's complimented me in a long time," she explained. "Except my brother, but he's only seven, so I suppose that doesn't really count…"

"Every little bit counts, Rissa," Dylan said firmly. Rissa smiled.

"Come on," Dylan said, taking Rissa's hand. "Let's go check on the Captain."

Dylan and Rissa chatted about this and that as they went back up on deck and into the cabin. But when they arrived at Barbossa's bedroom door, what they heard – or, rather, _didn't _hear – alarmed them.

"Wasn't he breathing really noisily before?" Rissa asked, confused.

Dylan's eyes widened. "Oh, mercy, no."

Rissa leapt backward, one hand over the top of the mug of tea, as Dylan crashed into the room.

"Rissa, he's not breathing!" she shrieked.

* * *

**A/N: As my readers know, I'm good with cliffhangers. ;) Maybe I'll be back later today, but I just might have to leave you hanging... Believe me, I actually do feel bad when I do this. I'm not a mean person, I swear.**

**Until next chap,**

**x Mevans**


	8. I was just trying to help you

**A/N: I was mean. I can't leave you hanging like that, I love you guys too much. :D**

**x Mevans**

* * *

"Oh, he's going to hate me for this," Dylan muttered. She snatched the pouch of herbs on the dresser and pulled out a bright orange packet. "Rissa, next healing lesson: If your patient stops breathing, get one of these -" she waved the packet in Rissa's face "- and do this."

Dylan shook about half of the packet's contents onto her palm and held it under Barbossa's nose. "Stand back," she warned. Taking a stack of handkerchiefs from the dresser and putting them on the bed in front of her, she made a fist with her other hand, which held a very large handkerchief, and rammed Barbossa's chest with it. Barbossa coughed loudly and gave a strong sniff, pulling most of the spice up his nose.

"That's cayenne pepper," Dylan whispered in Rissa's ear. "Use only in extreme circumstances. It results in a _really strong _immune reaction."

To prove her point, Barbossa panted for about ten seconds and then started in on an extremely violent sneezing fit. _"HaaAASCHOO! HAASCHOO! HeeEEASSHHOOO!"_

Remembering the handkerchief in her hand, Dylan made to give it to Barbossa, but realized that he probably was too out of it to hold it himself, so she supported his head with one hand and held the square to his face with the other.

Rissa watched in awe as Barbossa exploded with sneeze after sneeze, and as needed, Dylan expertly switched out used handkerchiefs for new ones.

After about eight or ten minutes, Barbossa was finally done, and completely disoriented. He held his head in his hands for a few seconds while Dylan cleaned up and took the rosemary tea Rissa handed her, which by some miracle was still quite warm. "Captain, I want you to drink this," Dylan said soothingly, handing it to him.

His arm shot out; Rissa yelped and jumped back, but Dylan was too slow. The tea sloshed all over the front of Dylan's shirt, and she screeched in pain, falling to her knees.

"_Why did you do thad?" _Barbossa screamed. _"WHY!"_

"I was just trying to help you!" Dylan sobbed, clutching at her chest. She had ripped open the top of her shirt to reveal a white sleeveless undershirt. The skin around the straps was an angry red. "You'd stopped breathing, Captain!"

"_GED OUD OF HERE!" _Barbossa snarled. _**"OUD!"**_

Rissa scooped up Dylan in her arms, swore angrily at the captain, and ran out of the cabin. "It's okay, Dylan," she whispered to her friend, who was still crying hysterically. "Dylan, relax. We're out of the cabin. I'm going to help you. Relax. You're okay."

She saw Pintel start coming over to them, and jerked her head as if to say, "Follow me." Rissa kept murmuring to Dylan, who had fainted from exhilaration, all the way down to the hold, where she laid her down in the low hammock Pintel indicated. "What the hell happened?" Pintel asked.

"No details. Barbossa got angry," Rissa said. "Please get me a towel. Lukewarm. Hurry."

Pintel scurried off to fetch the towel. Rissa knelt next to the hammock and ran her hands through Dylan's hair. "Dylan," she said. "Dylan, it's Rissa. Open your eyes. It's me, Rissa."

Dylan slowly awoke. "R-Rissa," she moaned. "Wh-what hap-pened?"

"Barbossa stopped breathing," Rissa told her. "Remember? And then you took the cayenne, put it under his nose, and made him sneeze. You kept giving him handkerchiefs," Rissa continued to jog her friend's memory. "After he stopped, I handed you the tea, but he slapped it all over you." She felt herself getting mad, so she took a deep breath. "And then I swore at him, and I carried you down here to the hold."

Dylan smiled weakly. "Y-You swore at th-the capt-tain."

Rissa laughed. "Yes, I did."

Pintel returned with the towel and handed it to Rissa. "Here," he said. "Listen, the captain can get like that –"

"Thank you, Pintel," Rissa said firmly. "Please let us be."

Pintel got the message and left.

Rissa carefully dabbed at the broken skin on Dylan's chest, and Dylan cried out again.

"Ssssh, Dylan," Rissa soothed her. "I have to do this or it won't heal right."

Dylan looked at her. "Y-Y-You're bec-coming a gr-great heal-er."

"Don't talk," Rissa told her. She smiled. "I have a great teacher."

Dylan returned the smile as she slowly fell asleep, the soft, gentle massage of Rissa's cloth a beautiful feeling.


	9. You should be mad at me

"Rissa, just do it."

"I will _not _let you back in there!"

"Do it or I'll go like this!"

"Fine."

Dylan wanted to go back into the cabin to check on Barbossa, but Rissa was still fuming about the tea burn incident. She couldn't believe she had made, on Dylan's orders, a new pitcher of the tea, and had placed it next to Barbossa's bed. She was awestruck that only a few moments ago, Dylan had talked her into placing a hot cloth over Barbossa's nose so it would help clear out his sinuses. She didn't want to help bandage Dylan's burns, and she didn't want to see Barbossa get better; she wanted to burn him right back. But she knew that Dylan would hate her if she did, and she'd also probably get marooned, so she grudgingly retrieved some cloth, ripped Dylan's shirt so it covered only her breasts, and gently wrapped the bandage around the burned portion of Dylan's chest.

"But I'm coming with you," Rissa warned. "If he tries anything funny –"

"– You'll walk out of the cabin without doing anything, like a normal person," Dylan finished for her. "I'm not afraid of him, Riss. He just got upset."

"Upset?" Rissa exclaimed, her voice cracking. "He _burned _you, Dylan!"

"I think I know why he got so angry, and I want to go see him and make sure!" Dylan said angrily, trying to get to her feet without dislocating the bandages. "Will you stop being so foolish and help me stand."

Dylan took Rissa's offered hand and pulled herself to her feet. "See, that didn't hurt at all," she lied, suppressing a wince.

Rissa raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, it hurt a little." Dylan took a step. "But that didn't."

"Let's just get this over with," Rissa grumbled, and helped Dylan to the stairs. Dylan eyed them apprehensively, but Rissa looked her in the face. "We're in this together, Dyl."

Dylan smiled. "I know, Riss. Thanks."

* * *

Barbossa was absolutely miserable. He hadn't seen Dylan or Rissa all day, and he was terrified that he had harmed Dylan when he knocked over the tea. As he looked at a cloth that had fallen off his face when he sat up a moment earlier, he sipped tea from a mug that had been left next to him and abused himself hotly: Just feeling embarrassed about her tending to his nose, and then he goes and burns her! What if he killed her? This notion took him over like a cold pail of water, and he started to shiver. He set the tea down, pulled the covers up to his chin, and wrapped his arms around himself, pondering all the horrible things that he might have done.

"Captain?"

Barbossa gave a start and snorted wetly, and the air that flew up his strangely unblocked nostrils shocked him into another fit. As he sneezed and shivered, he wondered why he had cleared out so fast. When the sneezing started to subside, he noticed a hand enter his blurred vision, holding a handkerchief. He grasped it gratefully and relieved his nose.

When he was finished, he turned his head tentatively and saw what he had hoped he would: Dylan was seated in a chair, and Rissa stood, somewhat protectively, behind it.

"Dylan, are -" he started to say, but Dylan held up a hand.

"I want to apologize for yesterday, Captain," she began.

Barbossa cut her off. "_You _want to apologize? Ha! I burned you, I worried all night that I killed you, and still, you make tea for me and the cloth on my face! And you say _you _want to apologize!" The stress of his statement made him cough deeply.

"I made the tea and the cloth," Rissa muttered.

"You worried all night about me?" Dylan fretted. "You shouldn't have done that. You need your rest."

"And you're worried about me!" Barbossa cried. "Dylan, I was so upset and embarrassed about you tending to my nose that I knocked a mug of boiling tea all over your front, and look at you now!" He gestured to Dylan's chest, heavily bandaged. "I could have killed you, Dylan, and you're worried aboud _be_!"

Dylan wordlessly handed him a handkerchief to blow his nose. Barbossa took it and threw it aside. "You should be bad ad be!"

"But I'm not, Captain," Dylan said forcefully, standing up. Barbossa actually shrunk back on the bed. "I'm _not_. I understand that you were embarrassed about me looking after your nose, and I completely understand your reaction. Yes, it hurt, and it still does, but injuries heal. All injuries heal. And to be honest, Captain, you really don't want Dylan Mackey angry with you. So let's forget the whole thing and just go on as we were. Okay?"

Dylan held out a hand for Barbossa to shake. Rissa's jaw dropped.

"So you're just going to forgi –" Rissa started, but Dylan shot her a scathing look.

"My choice, Riss," she whispered. She took Barbossa's hand in both of hers, and she said, "I'm going to get you better even it kills me."


	10. Please survive

Over the next week and a half, Dylan brought Rissa to see Barbossa more often, and their friendship grew. As their healing lessons became more frequent, Dylan started to let Rissa go on her own to assist Barbossa with something he might have needed, which Dylan appreciated, because her burns were bothering her and she needed to spend more time lying down.

But on the first day of the new month, sailing in precarious waters off the Caspian Sea, it all changed: "DYLAN!"

Dylan shot into an upright stance; she'd fallen asleep slouched in a corner of the brig cell. "Rissa?" she called.

"DYLAN!" came the second frantic shriek. Suddenly, Rissa came barreling down the stairs and into the cell, and she fell to her knees in front of Dylan, sobbing hysterically. "Dylan, I…it's all my…I can't believe…aaaahhh…"

"My God in Heaven, Rissa, spit it out!" Dylan exclaimed. "What's going on?"

Rissa took an enormous, heaving breath and said, "I think I gave Barbossa the wrong drink!"

Dylan relaxed. "Rissa, you gave him the wrong drink and you're this crazy about it? I can't tell you how many times I've done the same thing. Don't freak."

"No, you don't understand!" Rissa cried. "Remember your lesson a few days back?"

"The one about the lavender?"

"No, the one about the mixing!" Rissa clutched at a stitch in her side. "Cayenne and cinnamon! I gave him the cinnamon tea just as you said, and just when he went to drink it, the _Pearl_ lurched, the rest of the packet of cayenne I was holding fell into his cup, and he drained the whole thing!" She dissolved into a fresh bout of sobbing.

Dylan nearly stopped breathing. Cayenne and cinnamon were possibly the worst spices to mix, because cinnamon's taste shocked the taste buds and cayenne's shocked the sinuses, and when they were combined, the immune reaction would be so strong it was liable to stop one's heart.

"Riss, listen to me," Dylan begged, slapping her lightly around the face. "Listen!"

Rissa looked up at her with streaming eyes, hiccupping.

"I want you to listen very carefully," Dylan whispered. "First of all, this is not your fault. There was no way you could have known that the ship would lurch just as you were holding the cayenne. Secondly, and most important: In our pouch there is a spice called grephin. I was absolutely shocked when I saw that your friend Abby had it in her shop, because there's only one other person I know who sells it. It is quite possibly the most powerful spice in the whole world. I want you to get it for me, and get me a pitcher of hot water. You need to move very fast, because even though there wasn't much cayenne left in that packet, it's still going to result in a potentially fatal immune reaction in less than an hour. Do you understand me? Grephin, hot water pitcher, and move quickly."

"Y-yes," Rissa stammered, and rushed off.

Dylan sat back, and as she realized that this could be the first case she'd had where a patient died, and the first where the patient was a friend of hers, she felt tears of her own slide down her face.

"I'm so sorry, Captain," she whimpered. "I failed you."

* * *

Rissa returned with the grephin and the pitcher in record time. Dylan poured about half the spice into the pitcher, put her hand on top of it, and shook it vigorously. "That should about do it," she muttered. "Rissa, help me up, please."

Rissa pulled Dylan to her feet and they ran through the hold and up the stairs, Dylan grunting in pain for some of the way as their quick movements pulled at the semi-healed skin on Dylan's chest.

They skidded to a halt outside Barbossa's cabin. "Remember, Riss, he doesn't know," Dylan reminded her friend. "Normal. Everything's normal."

"Normal," Rissa whispered. "Yeah. Normal."

Dylan shook her head and went in. "Hello, Captain," she greeted Barbossa.

"Hi, Dylad," Barbossa returned, blowing his nose forcefully. "I wadted to ask: did you baig thad dea I jusd drak? Id was quide strog."

"Yeah, about that," Rissa muttered, but Dylan stepped on her foot.

"I want you to drink this," Dylan said, handing Barbossa a mug of the grephin tea. "It'll dull the taste."

"No, I'b find. Bud thag you." Barbossa blew his nose again. "This is geddig buch worse. I dode uderstad."

"I do, Captain," Dylan said. "This might sound a little strange, but you're going to feel pretty miserable for a long time if you don't drink this tea. Please believe me, Captain."

Barbossa looked at her strangely. "O – oh-gay," he said slowly.

As he reached to take the mug from Dylan, a peculiar look crossed his face. _"Hhaahhhh…"_

Dylan's heart dropped to her feet. "No…" she gasped.

"_HHAahaaAAAAASHOOO!" _Barbossa's entire body was thrust forward as the immune reaction began.

"Oh, Calypso, what have I done?" Rissa screamed. "Captain!" She tried to push his torso back into a sitting position, but it was of no use: Every time he'd sit back, he would sneeze again, his face crashing into his handkerchief along with the whole upper half of his body. The entire time, she was bawling.

"Rissa, it's not your fault!" Dylan yelled. "Uh…"

Dylan turned on the spot frantically to think of a way to stop the immune reaction, but, with a jolt that nearly stopped her own heart, she realized there was none.

Seeing the look on her face, Rissa collapsed into the chair, fainting from the excessive crying. Dylan knelt next to the bed, and all she could do was clutch Barbossa's free hand as the other was occupied with the handkerchief, and hold it to her face.

"Please, Captain," she begged him in a whisper. "Please survive…"

* * *

**A/N: So I invented a spice called grephin! Cool! Anyway, I know you all hate my cliffies, but fear not, my faithful readers, you shall be rewarded!**

**And don't worry about Barbossa. Trust me. ;)**

**x Mevans**


	11. I remember everything

"Dylad…?"

Dylan opened her eyes. "C-Captain?"

"You fell asleeb, love." Barbossa was sitting up in bed with his hand entwined in Dylan's tangled hair.

"Captain!" Dylan threw her arms around him. "You have no idea what's happened in the last few hours."

She proceeded to explain the tea mishap and the immune reaction, and how excruciating it was to watch him sneeze, not knowing if he'd survive.

"And I was so worried, Captain, I thought you would die," she finished. "Rissa was absolutely beside herself." Dylan turned to the chair and hit Rissa on the knee. "Riss, wake up!"

Rissa slowly awoke, and her eyes widened when she saw Barbossa was alive. "Did you tell him?" she asked sheepishly.

"I doh ids dot your fauld," Barbossa assured her. "I forgib you."

"Oh, thank God." Rissa breathed an enormous sigh of relief and tossed Barbossa a handkerchief. It landed on top of his head and sat there like some gaudy hairpiece. The three of them laughed so hard they cried.

* * *

Barbossa grew steadily better over the next few days. He enjoyed his time with Rissa a great deal, but he especially liked when Dylan was caring for him. Her presence alone made him feel quite well.

"Dylan, how old were you when your parents died?" he asked one particularly windy afternoon as she arrived with some soup.

Dylan set the soup down next to him and paused.

"Seven," she replied. "I remember everything…"

As she reminisced, staring out the small porthole window, Barbossa was startled to see a lone tear slide down her cheek, her sky-blue eyes watery.

"You – you don't have to talk about –" he began, but Dylan held up a hand.

"No, I probably should," Dylan murmured. "But I warn you – you'll be very surprised by the ending."

"I'm all ears, love," Barbossa told her, propping himself up on an arm.

"All right," Dylan agreed reluctantly. "Here goes…"

* * *

**A/N: I should probably warn you that the next chapter will be pretty descriptive...you know, blood and stuff. Reader discretion is advised. Sorry if you don't like it, but it goes with the plot. :(**

**x Mevans**


	12. The aft cannon on the starboard side

Dylan took a deep breath and began:

"Okay, it was Puerto de Guerra; beautiful day, not a cloud in sight. My father had just got home from a long voyage – he worked for the Royal Navy – and Mother was so excited to see him. He'd been gone for, say, about three months. Christian, my twin, he was excited too because Father had promised and gotten him the gift of a real Navy sword. We'd just finished supper when we heard screams down at the docks. Father took one look out the door and knew exactly what was going on: a raid, a pirate raid. 'Dylan, take your mother and Christian and go to the back of the house,' he said. I said, 'No, I won't leave you,' but Father was so adamant, I had to go. I was crying, crying so hard. I kissed him on the cheek and told him I loved him, and then he ran out the house and down the street. Mother, Christian, and I huddled up in the back bedroom, and we were terrified, cannons going off all around us and everyone and their brother were screaming bloody murder. Finally, when the screaming died down a bit – pardon the pun – Mother stood; she said, 'I'm going to see if your father's all right.' Well, she almost made the door when one last cannon blast sounded, and it seemed like slow motion: the sound of the wind whooshing with the ball's flight, the sound of it crashing through our house, the rumble of the house as it collapsed around us…"  
Dylan's voice caught, but she continued. "Christian and I clutched each other, and we were peppered with fallen bits of wood and glass and stuff. When it all stopped, I stood up, but Christian didn't. A long bit of window glass had skewered right through his chest, and if it had gone any further through him, it would've gotten me too. Mother was doomed from the start, because she'd stood up; a fallen beam had gotten her on the head. I was completely horror-struck, of course, but I knew that I had to find Father. Disheveled, tears flooding my face, I shot out the house and down the way, screaming my head off for Father. I probably passed the whole island on my way there, and about half were dead. The rest were in a huge panic. I was almost at the water when I saw him: Father, lying in a pool of his own blood. And his head was barely attached to his body…my father, my whole family…"  
Dylan couldn't go on anymore. She put her face in her hands and sobbed unrestrainedly. At one point, she felt warm arms envelop her in a soft, gentle hug, and she leaned into them, feeling a comforting sense of safety.

After what seemed like eternity, she looked up; it was Barbossa who had embraced her. "Did you see the ship?" Barbossa asked quietly.

"Yes," Dylan replied hoarsely. "That's the part I said you'd be surprised at."

"Why?"

"When I looked away from Father, I saw that the ship was a Royal Navy ship. There must have been a mutiny… It was sailing away, but it was still close. I got a glimpse of a man on the ship. He was wearing a hat…"

Barbossa was going to ask about the hat, but then he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Dylan confirmed it by turning slightly to eye the blue hat, with a white seabird feather, that Barbossa had worn since the day he had become a sailor.

"Judging by the way the ship was facing, it was the aft cannon on the starboard side that destroyed the house," Dylan whispered. She pulled away from Barbossa and put her head between her knees, covering it with her arms.

Barbossa felt hot tears of his own when he realized that the sailor she had seen twelve years ago, the sailor who had manned the aft starboard cannon, had been him.

* * *

**A/N: Believe it or not, I actually cried while writing this, because a sad song was playing on iTunes and, well, it just sucks that Dylan had to live with this...and the hat thing...and...oh, my God, I'm, like, going crazy. Please review and let me know that I'm not the only one blubbering right now... ;(**

**Until next chap,**

**x Mevans**


	13. It's just you and me now

**A/N: You all know that I'm working on two stories at a time now, so this one might be a little longer between chapters. Two worlds at once is a lot to work with. I just love being an author XD**

**As usual, I love you guys and would appreciate an R&R. Btw...check out the A/N at the bottom...**

**x Mevans**

* * *

"Oh, Dylan, I…I don't know what to say," Barbossa whispered. He reached out to caress her hair again, but she stood up.

"Captain, I've wanted to tell someone my life story ever since it happened," Dylan said quietly. "Seeing as it was you I told…it's…it's easier to forgive you. I know, of course, that you had absolutely no idea that you shot my house to pieces when you set off the cannon. I forgive you, Captain Barbossa."

Barbossa was so flabbergasted that the girl whose life he had unknowingly destroyed was forgiving him, he started sobbing like a child.

Dylan smiled sadly. She embraced him as he had embraced her, and she held him for the longest time, whispering to him, "It's all right. It's behind us. It's done. Don't worry, Captain."

* * *

The next day was a bit awkward, because of the events that had recently taken place, but they got back into their normal routine fairly quickly. Rissa, sadly, had to get off at an island off of Cuba, because there was someone she needed to see there. She neglected to say who, but Dylan figured out who it was, because the entire crew was extremely uncomfortable when they approached the island.

"Rissa," Dylan said when the longboat was being lowered, "I hope we meet again. It's been a pleasure knowing you."

"You too, Dyl," Rissa said, holding out a hand. "And thanks for teaching me. I've learned a lot."

Dylan took her hand and pulled her close for a hug. "I'll miss you, Riss."

"And I you," she whispered. She jumped into the longboat, saluted, and disappeared.

Dylan went back into Barbossa's cabin and informed him, "Rissa's gone. It's just you and me now, Captain."

Barbossa smiled at her choice of words. "I liked her. She was a good girl. I edjoyed her cobady."

"Oh, no, you're stuffing up again," Dylan said, handing him a handkerchief. She turned away as he relieved his nose. "I thought we were through with it."

"So did I," Barbossa said. _"HAaAAasSCHOO!"_

"Yikes! God bless you!" Dylan exclaimed. "Yeah, I don't think we kicked it yet. I'll go get more tea."

"Thangs," Barbossa said. He sniffled and lay back in bed. _At least Dylan doesn't have to leave, _he thought to himself. _That would be unbearable._

* * *

**A/N: Spoiler alert: That last paragraph was a hint... ;)**_  
_

**x Mevans**


	14. Captain, I'm so sorry

Dylan descended to the hold to make some more tea for Barbossa. While boiling the water, she reminisced: This had been the craziest journey she'd ever taken. She started out as a terrified prisoner, taken from the street and shut up in a brig cell for a sinister sailor to take advantage off, and in just a few weeks, she'd become a very close friend of the captain and she'd not been touched once.

She was just pouring some cinnamon into the warm pitcher when she heard a piercing scream up on deck – Pintel's. Another scream – Ragetti – followed.

Dylan shot up the stairs. When she saw what was happening, she screamed in fear: Pintel was hanging onto the side of the boat with one hand, and underneath him was at least a fifteen-foot-long great white shark.

"Shit!" Dylan swore. She ran over to Pintel and shouted down to him. "Don't worry! I'll get you up!"

As she went for the rope, she saw Barbossa stumble out of his cabin. "Captain, go back!" she cried. "It's not safe! Go back!"

Barbossa stood, frozen in shock, as Dylan reached over the side to hand the rope down. Pintel snatched the rope, and Dylan began heaving up.

Just as Pintel was pulled over the railing by a shaken Ragetti, who embraced his frightened crony, the wood collapsed, and Dylan lost her footing.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Barbossa's bellow echoed up and down the ship. He ran to the intact part of the railing. "Dylan, hold on!"

"Move back!" Dylan screeched, grasping a quickly splintering piece of wood like it was a lifeline. "Captain, move back! Make him move back!"

A burly black man Dylan didn't know by name took Barbossa by the arm and pulled him away from the railing. "Come, Captain, sir," she heard him say. He had a deep, consoling tone Dylan liked.

Suddenly, the wood snapped. Dylan let out a wail as she plummeted to the water.

"DYYLAANN!" Barbossa screamed, back at the railing.

As she felt the shark's scaly body sweep against her leg, Dylan thought: _Captain, I'm so sorry…_

The shark opened his enormous jaws, displaying his snow-white teeth. It slunk towards Dylan's thrashing body, and was about to tear her in half, but apparently, someone had other ideas: "NOT TODAY, YOU BLOODY BASTARD!"


	15. Please, Dylan, I need you

Dylan came up for air, gasping and sputtering, and upon hearing the angry shout, she looked around.

"Rissa," she breathed, before going under again.

Rissa's fiery face, standing upon a man-made raft, glowed in the coming sunset as she lifted a bamboo spear and began to stab the shark, swearing at it loudly. It thrashed and roared.

Just when she thought the shark was dead, she lowered her spear and prepared to reach for Dylan. However, the shark wasn't done: it leapt straight over Rissa's head and sank its fangs into the meat of Dylan's left shoulder. Her scream could have been heard in America.

"DYLAAAAN!" Rissa let out an almighty snarl and sent the spear straight through the shark's head. It sank, the water around it glupping monstrously.

Rissa scooped up the screaming Dylan and shouted, "Pintel, the net!"

It was Captain Barbossa who lowered the net. Rissa made an "I-knew-it" face and jumped into it.

Just as the net arrived on the deck of the _Pearl_, Dylan convulsed, and her body flew out of Rissa's arms and into Barbossa's.

"Dylad," he whispered. "Dylad, sday wid be…"

"Captain, I'll take care of this. You go back in your cabin like you should," Rissa said, but she knew he wouldn't listen.

He didn't. He knelt down on the wood with Dylan in his arms. "Dylad…" he kept begging. "Dylad, blease…"

Dylan's eyes fluttered open. "C-Captain…" she gasped. "Y-you should be - "

" – Idside, bud I dodt gib a dab," Barbossa growled. He sniffled loudly. "You're more important."

Dylan smiled weakly. "N-not for much lon-ger."

A tear slid down Barbossa's cheek and fell onto Dylan's. She reached up with a shaking hand and touched it. "I-I'm sorry I c-couldn't cure you, C-Captain Barbos-sa."

Barbossa sobbed. "Please, Dylan," he whispered. "I need you."

Rissa felt herself losing it. She knew it was coming, but she couldn't bring herself to tell Barbossa.

They could both only watch as the life slowly slipped out of her…

* * *

**A/N: PLEASE DON'T HATE ME! Or us, in this case. I had Jed help me with this chapter because she wanted to try her hand at writing in the _Pirates _universe, and we both thought it would be a good idea for a twist if Dylan died. I/We might bring her back, not sure yet. Tell us what you think we should do.**

**x Mevans**


	16. I will miss you, Captain

Barbossa lay over Dylan's bled-out body and wailed. Rissa knelt next to him and put an arm around his shaking shoulders, tears of her own rocketing down her cheeks.

As a light rain began to fall, the crew filed out of various locations on the ship and, upon seeing what had happened, took off their hats or crossed themselves. Pintel even shed a few tears of his own. Ragetti sniffled and patted him on the head.

Suddenly, as Barbossa clutched it still tighter to his chest, Dylan's body began to glow. Rissa nudged Barbossa, because he didn't notice. When he didn't move, she nudged him harder. Finally, she just shouted, "Barbossa!"

Barbossa's head flicked up, and he exclaimed, "Whoa!"

Dylan's body fell to the ground, but a soft blue entity rose up out of her chest. It was Dylan's spirit.

Barbossa fell back onto his backside, shocked. "Dylan…" he whispered. Rissa just stared.

"Captain Barbossa," Ghost-Dylan said, "there is no word to describe the sorrow I feel at leaving you. I am more than sorry that I was not able to cure you."

The entity turned to Rissa. "But I do know someone who can."

Rissa laughed through her tears. "Dyl, you of all people know I can't cure as well as you can. Could."

"That is why I give you this," Ghost-Dylan said. She smiled. "Then I won't have to miss you as much."

Ghost-Dylan touched Rissa on the head, and then she floated down to Barbossa. She kissed him on the cheek. "I will miss you, Captain."

Barbossa smiled sadly.

Ghost-Dylan faced Rissa and said, "I think one more dose of grephin should do it."

As the spirit disappeared, in its place appeared a bottle. Rissa caught it. "Well, Captain," Rissa said, "bottoms up."

Barbossa drained the bottle, and he felt a most peculiar sensation. He could almost feel his symptoms flowing out of him with the rain. "Dylan was right," he breathed.

"Then let's get you out of the rain," Rissa quipped, helping Barbossa to his feet.

As they turned to leave, Barbossa stopped. "Wait."

He picked up Dylan's body one last time, returned her kiss, and thrust it over the side of the _Pearl_.

"Customary to bury a sailor at sea," he explained to Rissa as they went back inside.


	17. Epilogue: Hey, you with the dreads

_August 16, 1722_

_Dear Diary,_

_After the Dylan ghost thing, I think Barbossa was too sad to journey on, so he ordered the crew to sail for this place called "Isla de Muerta". I didn't really fancy the name, so I wished Barbossa and his crew the best of luck and hopped a merchant ship back home to Port Royal. We're on a stopover at Puerto de Guerra now._

_I guess I'm on my own. Maybe I'll go ask the weird guy with the dreads over there where the nearest tavern is. I need it._

_Rissa Turner_

"Hey, you with the dreads!" Rissa called, discarding her quill.

"Yes?" The man turned and surveyed her. "You look like a person with a purpose."

"I am," Rissa said. "Where's the nearest tavern?"

"Hmm. You're my kind of person." The man pointed. "Just over there. It's called Brewer's Bounty. May I join you?"

"Of course," Rissa said. As they walked, Rissa introduced herself. "Rissa Turner."

"Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service."


End file.
